White Hot Kiss

by Jennifer L. Armentrout

  next words were laced with seriousness. “You need to stop tagging.”

  Grateful for the breathing room, I let out a ragged breath and clutched the edges of the sink. Now it made sense—this Upper Level demon showing interest in me. “What? Have I tagged too many of your friends?”

  One dark brow arched. “I frankly don’t care how many demons you tag or how many the Wardens send back to Hell. As you can see, your glow-in-the-dark touch doesn’t work on me.”

  I frowned as I eyed him. Crap. He was right. And I hadn’t even noticed it until now. Nice.

  “It doesn’t work on any Upper Level demon. We’re just too cool for that.” Roth folded muscular arms across his chest. “But back to the whole tagging thing. You need to stop.”

  I barked out a short laugh. “Yeah, and why in the world would I do that?”

  A bored look crept across his striking features. “I could give you one good reason. The Seeker last night was looking for you.”

  My mouth opened, because I’d been preparing another dismissive laugh, but the sound caught in my throat. Fear was back, and rightfully so. Had I heard the demon correctly?

  A keen light reflected in his eyes. “Hell is looking for you, Layla. And they’ve found you. Don’t go out tagging.”

  My heart pumped painfully as I stared at him. “You’re lying.”

  He laughed under his breath. “Let me ask you a question. Did you just have a birthday? Turn seventeen recently? Say, within the past couple of days?”

  I could only stare at him. My birthday had been just three days ago, on Saturday. I’d gone out to dinner with Stacey and Sam. Zayne even joined us. During dessert, Stacey had tried to get Zayne to tie a cherry stem with his tongue.

  The smirk was back. “And yesterday was the first day you tagged since then, right? Hmm...and a Seeker finds you. Interesting.”

  “I don’t see the connection,” I managed. “You’re probably lying, anyway. You’re a demon! You expect me to believe anything you’re saying?”

  “And you’re a demon. No—don’t interrupt me with your denial. You’re a demon, Layla.”

  “Half,” I muttered.

  His eyes narrowed. “You have no reason to think I’m not telling you the truth. I also have a thousand reasons to lie to you, but the whole tagging thing? I’m not kidding. It’s not safe.”

  The bell rang, startling me. I stared at him, wishing Hell would open up and welcome him back with open arms.

  Roth glanced at the door, frowning. He turned back to me, lips curving into a strange smile. “I mean it. Don’t tag after school.” He pivoted around. At the door, he stopped and looked over his shoulder. His eyes met mine. “By the way, I wouldn’t tell your family about me. I’m afraid you’d find out just how much they really do care for you.”

  * * *

  My brain was having a hard time processing Roth’s sudden appearance. Telling me that I was attracted to him? Ordering me to stop tagging? Who in the Hell did he think he was? First off, he was a demon—a hot demon—but ew. There was no reason for me to believe anything he said. Second, he wasn’t just any demon, but an Upper Level one. Double the reason not to trust him.

  He might have been right when he said I didn’t know a lot about my heritage, but I knew my demons. Hundreds of years ago, there’d been a race of them that could pluck up a soul just by touching a human. They’d been called the Lilin, and they’d been wiped off the planet by the Wardens. Sure, there were still succubi and incubi who fed off the energy of humans, but in this day and age, the ability to completely take a soul was rare. Abilities and traits in the demon world were hereditary, just like in the human world.

  The first stirring of unease I’d felt upon hearing Roth’s words tripled.

  If the other demon he’d mentioned, “the one before me,” was my mom and she was still alive... I couldn’t even finish that thought without my chest squeezing. Because even though mommy dearest was a demon, the fact that she hadn’t wanted me still hurt. The only good that could come out of discovering who she was would be learning what kind of demon she was, and who knew if that would actually be a good thing.

  At lunch, I managed to convince Stacey that faking sick had been my last-minute solution to getting out of the bio exam. She bombarded me with questions, wanting to know how I’d met Roth.

  “Met who?” Sam asked, shrugging off his backpack and sitting down next to us.

  “No one,” I muttered.

  “Whatever. Layla ditched us last night so she could shack up with this superhot new guy.” Stacey pointed her square slice of pizza at me. “You dirty ho. I’m so envious.”

  “Layla hooked up with someone?” Sam laughed as he popped open his soda. “Was it a Warden? Wow.”

  Pulled back into the present, I frowned. “No. It wasn’t a Warden. And what the Hell is that supposed to mean?”

  Sam shrugged. “I don’t know. I just can’t picture you hooking up with anyone.” He took his glasses off, using his shirt to rub them clean. “And I assumed he was a Warden or something. Who else gets Stacey all crazy?”

  Stacey took a bite of her pizza. “He was...wow.”

  “Hold on a sec. Why can’t you picture me hooking up with anyone?” I sat back in the chair. I had this ridiculous urge to prove I was hookup material.

  Sam shifted uncomfortably. “It’s not that people wouldn’t want to hook up with you.... It’s that, well, you know...”

  “No. I don’t know. Please elaborate, Samuel.”

  Stacey sighed, taking pity on him. “What Sam is trying to say is that we can’t picture you hooking up with anyone because you don’t really pay attention to guys that way.”

  I started to disagree, because I totally paid attention to guys. But I was always on the sidelines, which probably made me seem uninterested. The truth was I was so interested. It was just that I couldn’t have a relationship with anyone who had a soul, and that really limited the whole dating pool.

  “I hate you both,” I grumbled, attacking my pizza with a vengeance.

  “All right, as much as I love talking about hot guys, can we change the subject?” Sam poked his slice around the plate, watching Stacey from under his lashes. “Guess what I learned last night.”

  “That the number of hours you play video games per day equals the number of more years you’ll be a virgin?” she asked.

  “Ha. No. Did you guys know that Mel Blanc—the guy who voiced Bugs Bunny—was allergic to carrots?”

  We stared at him.

  His cheeks flushed. “What? It’s true and it’s also ironic. I mean, Bugs Bunny ran around all the time with a damn carrot in his hand.”

  “You are such a fountain of random knowledge,” Stacey murmured, somewhat awestruck. “Where do you keep it all?”

  Sam ran a hand through his hair. “In my brain. You have one, too, I think.”

  The two kept up the bickering, and after lunch, I spent the rest of the day expecting Roth to pop up and snap my neck, but I didn’t see him at all. I could only hope he’d gotten run over or something.

  After the last class of the day, I shoved my books into my locker and hurried outside. Don’t tag? Ha. I was going to be a tagging maniac.

  I was just going to be a little more careful about it.

  Paying close attention to the demons I spotted as I wandered the D.C. streets, I waited until I was absolutely positive the suckers weren’t going to whip around and morph into waxy, soulless Seekers. In other words, I was being a total stalker. Within an hour, I’d already bagged a Poser and three Fiends.

  Fiends were the most common demon topside and they always appeared to be young. Although no less dangerous than Posers or Seekers, they were more into creating mayhem wherever they went than fighting. Their abilities were a smorgasbord of messed-up-ness. Some were little pyro-heads, able to create fires with a snap of their fingers. Others were into mechanical things. Well, they were into breaking down mechanical things, which they could do with just a touch. I could usu
ally find them loitering near construction sites or power grids.

  I lit them up, every single one I came across, knowing full well the Wardens would find them later that night. Sometimes, but not often, I wondered if it was unfair that the demons had no clue that after I “accidentally” knocked into them, they had a bull’s-eye on them. But it didn’t stop me.

  Demons were evil, no matter how normal they might look.

  I just didn’t know what category I fell into.

  Tagging three more Fiends by five, I decided it was time to call it a night and found a pay phone. Morris answered with his normal silence, and I asked him to pick me up. He hit the keypad twice, signaling a yes. My totals for the evening weren’t astronomical, but I felt good about them, and as I waited at my usual bench, relief eased the muscles in my neck. Nothing out of the ordinary had happened. The tagging had been run-of-the-mill.

  Since no one tried to play grabby with my head, it proved that Roth was full of it. Now I just needed to figure out what to do about the punk demon. From the moment I’d first begun tagging, I’d been ordered never to interact with Upper Level demons and required to report any possible sighting. Roth was the first one I’d ever seen.

  But if I told Abbot about Roth, he would pull me out of school.

  I couldn’t have that. School was my only real link to normalcy. High school was Hell on Earth for most, but I loved it. I could pretend to be normal there. And I refused to let a demon—or even Abbot himself—take that from me.

  As I waited for Morris, I wished my cell phone wasn’t floating somewhere in the sewers. Damn Roth. Without my cell, I couldn’t even play solitaire. Instead all I could do was people watch, and I’d been doing that since I left school.

  Sighing, I sat on my bench and kicked my feet out. I ignored the looks I was getting from an old lady sitting on the other side.

  The first tingle that danced along the nape of my neck didn’t really raise any warnings, but as the sensation increased, so did the feeling of restlessness. Twisting around, I scanned the crowd of people hurrying down the sidewalk. A pretty parade of souls hummed along, but in the mix, standing back under the alcove of a thrift store, was a void where no color shone through.

  I sat up straight and turned around so quickly that the old lady gasped. I caught a glimpse of a dark suit, pale skin and hair that seemed to stand straight up. It was definitely a demon, but not Roth. The height and width of the man was larger, but there was a flash of golden eyes.

  An Upper Level demon.

  My heart rate tripled and then a horn blew, causing me to jump. I looked away for only a second, long enough to see that Morris had arrived, but by the time I turned back to where the demon had been standing, he was gone.

  * * *

  I actually waited for Morris to park the car before I jumped out this time. As we entered the kitchen through the garage, I heard childish giggles and shrieks.

  Curious, I turned back to Morris. “Did we turn into a day-care center since this morning?”

  Morris slunk past me, smiling.

  “Wait. Is Jasmine here with the twins?”

  He nodded, which was the best answer I’d get from him.

  A big smile pulled at my lips. I forgot about the mess that had been today. Jasmine lived in New York with her mate, and since she’d had the twins, they’d rarely traveled. Female gargoyles were a rarity. Most of them died giving birth, like Zayne’s mother had. And the demons loved to pick them off. Because of that, the females were heavily guarded and well cared for.

  Kind of like living in a bejeweled prison, even if they didn’t see it that way.

  On the flip side, I did understand the males’ perspective. Without the females, our race couldn’t survive. And without the gargoyles acting as Wardens and keeping the demons in check, what would happen? Demons would take over, plain and simple. Or the Alphas would destroy everything. Happy times.

  Thankfully I wasn’t under any kind of protection order. That was why I was able to attend public school when none of the other gargoyles could. Being only half-Warden meant I wasn’t mating material. My purpose in life wasn’t to continue the race. And even if I could mate with a Warden—without taking their soul accidentally—the demonic blood I carried would be passed down, just like the Warden DNA.

  And no one wanted that hot mess in their bloodline.

  I was more than happy to be able to come and go as I pleased and to help the cause in any way I could, but it was...well, it was hard. I would never truly be a part of the Wardens. And no matter how badly I wanted it, I’d never really be their family.

  Something else Roth had been spot-on about.

  My chest squeezed as I set my bag on the kitchen table and followed the sound of laughter to the living room. I stepped into the room just as a pint-sized blur of white and gray zoomed past my face. Jumping back, I felt my mouth drop open as a young, dark-haired woman rushed past me, her luminescent spirit trailing behind her.

  “Isabelle!” Jasmine yelled. “Get down from there right now!”

  The little thing’s soul faded enough for me to see her actual body. Isabelle had ahold of the ceiling fan. One wing flapped while the other drooped to the side as the fan spun her around. Her curly red hair seemed out of place on her chubby gray face. So did the fangs and horns.

  “Uh...”

  Jasmine stopped and faced me, out of breath. “Oh, Layla. How are you doing?”

  I flipped off the switch to the ceiling fan. “Good. You?”

  Isabelle giggled as the fan slowed, still flapping that one wing. Jasmine stepped beneath her. “Oh, you know. The twins are two and just learning how to shift. It’s been a real joy.” She grabbed one of Isabelle’s stumpy legs. “Let go—Izzy, let go this instant!”

  Yeah, two-year-olds could shift and I couldn’t. Embarrassing. “Did you guys get in yesterday?” I asked, thinking of the gargoyles on the roof.

  She wrangled in Isabelle, sitting her down on the floor. “No. We just got here. Dez had to go out of town, so he asked Abbot if we could stay here until the clan returns to New York.”

  “Oh.” I peeked behind the couch, spotting the other twin. At first, he was just a little blob of pearly-colored goodness. Then I saw past his soul. He slept in his human form, curled atop a thick blanket. He had his thumb in his mouth. “At least this one is sleeping.”

  Jasmine laughed softly. “Drake sleeps through anything. This one—” she picked up Isabelle and sat her on the couch “—doesn’t like to sleep. Isn’t that right, Izzy?”

  Isabelle half jumped, half fell off the couch and rushed me. Before I could move, she went down on all fours and sank those sharp little teeth through my flats, biting my toe.

  I shrieked, fighting the urge to punt the little freak across the room.

  “Izzy!” cried Jasmine, rushing over to us. She grabbed her, but the damn thing had a firm hold on my toe. “Izzy! Do not bite! What have I told you?”

  I winced as Jasmine manually removed her daughter’s fangs from my foot. The moment Jasmine put the giggling child down, Isabelle launched herself into the air, straight at me.

  “Izzy! Don’t!” her mother yelled.

  I caught her, taking a wing in the face. She was surprisingly heavy for a two-year-old. I held her at arm’s length. “It’s okay. She’s not bothering me.” Now.

  “I know.” Jasmine floated to my side, wringing her slender hands. “It’s just that...”

  As realization sank in, I wanted to crawl into a hole. Jasmine was worried that I’d suck her baby’s soul out. I’d thought Jasmine had grown to trust me after we first met, but when it came to her babies, that trust had jumped out the window. Part of me couldn’t blame her, but...

  Sighing, I handed Isabelle over to Jasmine and took a step back. Feeling all kinds of wrong, I forced a smile. “So how long will you be staying here?”

  Jasmine cradled the wriggling kid to her chest. Isabelle kept reaching out toward me. “A couple of weeks—a month, tops—and th
en we’ll head back home.”

  Then it struck me. If Jasmine was here, then that meant her younger and totally available sister was here. And she’d be here for weeks. My stomach dropped.

  Without saying another word, I wheeled from the room to go on a manhunt—or a female-gargoyle hunt. Whatever. Danika was different from any human girl Zayne might occasionally “date.” Way different.

  The soft sound of husky laughter floated out of the library I usually occupied during all my copious spare time. An irrational territorial urge surfaced. As I crossed the sparsely decorated sitting room that no one ever used, my hands balled into fists. Jealousy was a bitter acid sweeping through my veins as I stopped before the closed doors. I had no right to barge in on them, but I was no longer in control of myself.

  Danika’s throaty laugh came again, followed by a deeper chuckle. I could picture her tossing her long black hair over her shoulder, smiling the way all girls smiled at Zayne, and I pushed open the door.

  They stood so close their souls touched.